The Truth: Volume 1
by The Plot Doctor
Summary: The journal entries of one you thought never knew, but found out very early on. Don't let the genres fool you, they're only a light presence, but they were the easiest applied. Rating because of thoughts on death, there are ghosts after all.


**This fic may exceed your expectations or you may hate everything about it. By no means does it represent canon to the full extent, but it wouldn't be a fan-based fic if it did. Feel free to run screaming into the night whenever you see fit.**

**Legally, I own absolutely nothing. Please enjoy.**

_Sunday_

_09/16/07_

_5:32 PM_

I'd been saving this journal for something more special than my own petty feelings, and I've found something that truly concerns me. It needs to be recorded in the event that it turns out to be important. There's a chance that it's something small or I'm just going crazy, but for the past month, something has been very different about Danny Fenton. He's seemed cautious, yet he's dropped numerous things (31 beakers by my last count) and has been banned from handling school property. It's obvious that something is bothering him.

Whether it be something typical of a teenager like grades and girl troubles, or something caused by his unconventional parents and they're dangerous technology, whatever the case, I intend to find out. I shall record all strange and unusual things that I see for the sake of figuring out just what the problem is.

_Monday_

_09/17/07_

_9:37 AM_

I didn't expect it to happen so soon, but about an hour ago (I only just now got the chance to write) I saw something I really can't explain. It was only for a moment and from a distance, but I swear I saw Fenton falling through the floor. His friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley were present, so I'd be willing to bet the charade I uphold that they know exactly what's going on. Even if I didn't see what I thought I did, I now realize that their behavior as a group suggests secrecy. I shall henceforth record the particularly odd occurrences when one or all is present.

_1:04 PM_

I don't know what possessed me to do it this time. There are many probable causes, and it's likely a combination of most if not all that inspired such action. Perhaps it was the prospect of eating actual mud in the place of the usual meatloaf and dessert based mud pies I indulge in every Monday. Maybe it was the notion that if I maintain the illusion of who I am, it really will be all downhill from Highs School, and I'm already quite unhappy with these so-called best years of my life. It's entirely possible that in the moment I believed a confrontation would reveal all, yet in spite of how little wasn't brought to the surface, I did learn a bit.

I assaulted Fenton with the top-soil going on an expected jock-rant before saying it was the fault of his "girlfriend" Manson. The promptness of their denials tells that they have feelings for each other even if neither of them realize it, but I highly doubt that's the problem.

Shortly after, something strange and slightly impressive occurred. In the heat of the role I play, I set the plate in front of him then ordered him to eat the slop, and it seemed as if he was going to comply as has become typical in his non-confrontational demeanor. Yet while looking over my shoulder a puff of mist escaped his mouth, resembling seeing someone's breath on a cold day, and that seemed to change his mind. He hurled the plate at me and started a food fight. Then escaped in the direction he'd been looking before.

As he was leaving I called out that he would pay for that, and I meant it not as a threat but a warning. He will be held responsible and punished. Whatever's going on, he'll need to learn to be more careful from now on.

_4:15 PM_

I've finally gotten the chance again, and I don't know where to start. I've discovered something that may have been better off remaining a secret, how I kept my cool in that moment is a mystery even to me. But knowing that it was a secret that likely should remain as such, freaking out or acting out of turn would not have helped in the slightest.

I was with Mr. Lancer looking for Fenton, but being the athlete that I am, I was a fair distance ahead. That's when I saw it. Some sort of large meat creature offered a cookie to Manson, then threatened death when turned down. Also present were Foley and what appeared to be a wannabe superhero, all decked out in spandex and impossible colors. I wondered for the briefest of seconds where Fenton was, when that question was promptly answered for me. The so-called hero fizzled out unexpectedly, leaving Fenton in his wake. Possibly the only thing that kept me from crying out in alarm was the obvious danger of the situation, for I'm a coward at heart. Though my assessment of danger was indeed correct, for Fenton was slammed into Foley, and Manson was taken by the meat creature.

In utter shock, I began to run on autopilot (which after all these years has become kind of a jerk) doing nothing to stop Mr. Lancer from finding and apprehending the two boys, even going so far as to rub the punishment in their face. Although at first it appeared that the punishment would be light when Mr. Lancer began reading off their records (turns out my count was off by 3, he's dropped 34 beakers), nothing would indicate deliberate destruction. But in all fairness they don't deserve to be punished at all. What could I possibly say when the ones at the receiving end won't speak up themselves. I, the one truly at fault, am free from scorn due to my athletic prowess and football record. Four touchdown passes indeed.

I was left to watch the door as Mr. Lancer went to retrieve cleaning supplies, somehow glory amounts to trust, or everyone believes I hate Fenton that much. When the two disappeared, said teacher was furious, yet perplexed. They may be in more trouble than they're expecting, but at least the question of how they escaped was put to rest when I quickly made up a theory as to how they escaped. Though I believe I may have only made him suspicious of myself.

_Tuesday_

_09/18/07_

_7:01 AM_

After a night's rest I've come to accept that I'll likely never understand the full severity of the situation, that right is reserved for trusted friends and perhaps family. I'll merely watch from the shadows and try not to give anything away. Perhaps someday I can share these recordings with someone, but I doubt that'll ever happen. They'll likely end up a coping mechanism for the things I know yet cannot discuss with anyone.

_9:21 PM_

When I arrived at school today, there were not one, but two food-based protests present on the front-lawn. Being the non-vegetarian that I am, I promptly sided with Foley's meat support rally. I was so caught up in the pro-meat antics that I didn't snap out of it until the sky darkened with a raging wind, and in true villain fashion was met with psychotic cackling and a distinct chaos. Meat was ripped from within the delivery trucks and swirled threateningly around into the form of the meat creature from before. I instinctively scanned the panicking crowd for Fenton, and spotted him just before he was blocked in a "hug" by his two friends, who then pulled away and revealed his other form.

It would seem that he's still inexperienced, for the battle didn't exactly play out well. For every blow he dealt, he seemed to receive one far worse. A well-placed kick was met with a punch that sent him through an airplane, though he seemed to do no damage to the craft. On the return he dealt a blow that scattered meat everywhere, and left him weakened in a crater. The real surprise was what came from inside the meat creature, it appeared to be a little old lady. I wouldn't expect someone so grandmotherly to be capable of such destruction, yet looks can be deceiving as I know all too well.

She actually used the phrase "balanced diet of doom" and I almost started laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness of such a term, but the meat minions she summoned sobered me up. In hind sight, everything about the situation was ridiculous, I'm trying to maintain my laughter as I write this. Each of the minions was easily dealt with in a single blow, though they promptly regenerated. Luckily most everyone had run away in pure terror. Immediately following this, Fenton regressed to his normal form and it obviously wasn't intentional. He was given the runaround by said minions and was dropped from a rather high altitude. He changed back mid-fall, and flew right over his parents and sister.

Rather than react with concerned shouts of "Danny!" or other normal reactions one might expect from a family, his father shouted ghost. In that moment my heart skipped a beat, haunted by two thoughts. His family didn't even know, I had intruded upon a secret he didn't dare to tell even them. The other was no more comforting: Was Fenton dead? Worse yet, was it my fault? Did my senseless actions to cover up my own lies drive him to something unthinkable? But no, he still had a pulse. He has two forms, so perhaps he lay somewhere in between life and death, a half-ghost or something. It would explain how he seemed to phase through objects. But how did it happen.

I was of course snapped from my musings by the elderly-woman, perhaps she was a ghost, being sucked into what appeared to be a thermos wielded by Fenton himself. He was in his human form again, which was how Mr. Lancer had finally caught him and landed him in trouble. The three friends had been tasked with cleaning up the wreckage after the devastation, and I was there to supervise.

Earlier I had mentioned how I struggled not to laugh, during said supervision I did let it slip. Fenton most certainly misplaced the reason for my laughter, and phased what they had already cleaned up out of its container and on to me. It was in vain, and entirely careless. He only created more work for himself just to enjoy a few seconds of revenge. Worse is that his actions made it obvious to anyone but a total idiot that something beyond normal just occurred and he was responsible, though I suppose that's what I've led everyone to believe I am.

I wonder, is there anything I can do to help him along in control and character?

**So many words… But since it's three days late for when I said I would post (not that anyone yet cares) I shall force myself to crank another out within the next two days.**

**Now fair warning: The notion of a timeline in Danny Phantom is pure and utter garbage, so I may end up rearranging the order of episodes when possible within a season without screwing up the overall plot. Not every episode will be present, due to the presence of the writer, and not every chapter will be the same length. Some may even be as short as 500 words or as long as 5K, the latter being highly optimistic. Also, I'd love help on the timeline itself.**

**I'd appreciate questions, concerns, and returns. Nothing is necessary, but all is welcome.**


End file.
